


DRAMAtical Nerder

by leck



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leck/pseuds/leck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody knows the pain of having your complex, intricate and exciting adventure reduced to nothing but a high school AU more than Aoba Seragaki. It seems that nobody likes to make his life easy: he doesn't understand why he's going through the American school system in Midorijima, strange people pop into his life out of nowhere and insist on befriending him, and every day at school is so filled to the brim with bullshit he's surprised it hasn't overflowed yet. However, perhaps the antics of his friends-but-kind-of-not-friends can teach him how to make the most of several repeatedly shitty situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DRAMAtical Nerder

**Toue Academy: An Overview**

 

            “ _First and foremost, we welcome you to Toue Academy, and are honored that you have selected us to guide your academic career. Our students are hard-working and respectable, as our rules and guidelines shape our pupils into reaching unprecedented levels of maturity, respect, and honor. With our wide variety of sports, clubs, and popular activities, we can assure you that Toue Academy is the perfect place for anyone, regardless of differences. Variety is valued at our school. Every day, our students prove that getting along is not so difficult after all. Toue’s math and science departments are highly advanced, as our founder envisions our students working towards success and harmony with the world around us. Whether you are rich or poor, native or foreign, male or female, we know that Toue Academy is right for you.”_

 

High school. Regardless of whether one was a jock, a cheerleader, a nerd, a goth, a stoner, a Rhyme addict, a gangster, or an ordinary person who doesn’t associate with media-perpetuated stereotypes of high school, it sucked. Despite its fantastic glass-and concrete exterior, along with its glass dome in the back of the campus for the elite science students, Toue Academy was no exception. The school _looked_ rich, but in actuality, only the aforementioned elites received quality education, while the main two buildings served the poor, screwed-over students from the Old Resident District, who could, in no way, ever dream of affording to be an “advanced student”. Fortunately, Aoba Seragaki never cared much. He lived a fairly good life, with his part-time job and his grandmother. His embarrassing years of being a middle schooler were far behind him, too. All he needed to do was focus on his shitty education, graduate, and work full-time. That’s all he needed to do.

           

            With all this in mind, Aoba walked to his first class of the day, awaiting the end of junior year with every step he took.

 

**The Transfer Student from Germany**

 

            “Class,” an exasperated teacher began, after several previous moments of interruption. “I’d like to introduce a new student today.” It wasn’t as if the unfamiliar boy had gone unnoticed. Rather, that was far from the truth. Already he defied the “no hats” rule, with a floppy-eared hat with rabbits on it. He dressed like a fucking loser, with one color scheme dominating his entire outfit, but his eyes seemed cold and intimidating. His eyebrows, nose, and mouth were pierced, adding to his fear factor - Aoba really didn’t know what kind of person he was. Honestly, he didn’t really want to find out.

            “This is--”

            “My name,” he interrupted, voice low and calm. When he spoke, Aoba saw that his tongue was pierced as well. “Is Noiz.” He glanced around, then looked back to the teacher, who rolled her eyes.

            “I believe my attendance sheet says your name is--”

            “My name,” he said again, tone sharp. “Is Noiz.”

            “Noiz.”

            “Did I fucking stutter?” It was then he noticed Aoba. Without changing his expression, he winked, and then looked back to the teacher once more. She facepalmed herself and started muttering something about pretentious rebellious youth.

            “Hu--”

            “Noiz.”

            “ _Noiz,_ ” the teacher corrected herself with disgust, “is joining us from Germany. However the fuck he ended up on this tiny island, I have no idea. Take the seat of the main character’s love interest.”

            “ . . . K.” Calmly, he walked away and sat down right next to Aoba. Like a white boy in middle school, he leaned back in his chair and took up an astronomical amount of space. He even managed to invade Aoba’s personal bubble, despite the fact that their desks were arranged apart from each other. Aoba made a muffled angry sound as he tried to focus on whatever not-lesson the teacher was giving.

 

            Thirty minutes into class, the transfer student got up from his desk and walked over to the window. Other students began to whisper in anticipation, relieved that something exciting was finally happening in this god-forsaken class. Alarmed, the teacher stopped her lecture and turned towards him. With a lazy arm he opened one of the large glass windows. As a rush of air entered the classroom, a rush of air surrounded his privates. Aoba nearly choked at the sight of it. What the _fuck_ was he doing? Who the _fuck_ did he think he was? And why, for the love of everything ever, was his dick as pierced as his face?

            “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” The teacher began to voice Aoba’s concerns. Unfazed by her tone, Noiz made sharp eye contact with her, lifted his dick to the window, and began to piss onto the campus below. “PUT THAT AWAY!”

            “ . . . Make me.” The students’ reactions to all of it varied. Many looked away in disgust. Many--mostly boys--looked on, whooping and cheering--but some of them looked away immediately, because they were seeing a dick, and that’s gay. Some reacted much like Aoba--oddly curious, particularly as to why this thing seemed almost _normal_ to this guy. When he finished, he pulled out a napkin, wiped the pee off (with special attention to the piercings that definitely should not go down there) and tucked his dick away, pulling his pants up again. The teacher fumed as he walked casually back to his seat, as if nothing had ever happened. Fearlessly, she stormed up to him, pink slip in hand.

“HUBERT--”

“It’s Noiz--”

“I DON’T FUCKING GIVE A SHIT! DETENTION!” She slammed the note on his desk and turned away, so angry she proceeded to forget she even _had_ a lesson to teach.

Recklessly, he tore the sheet in half, shoved it in his pocket, and gave Aoba another wink.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He sunk into his chair and fell asleep for the remainder of class. But the transfer student was wide awake--and smirking slightly as he watched.

 

**The Aspiring Hairdresser and the Harem of Mindless Background Characters**

 

            “I heard he’s done it with nearly seventy girls now.”

            “I heard his family is secretly rich, but he doesn’t want anyone to find out. They’d only love him for his money and not his obvious charm.”

            “I heard he doesn’t want to go out with me. If you hear of a way to make him love me, _tell me_.”

            “I hear that he wears a thin white bathrobe while doing it, and refuses to take it off.”

            “How can someone who has that much sex never expose his back and arms and stuff?’

            “I dunno. It’s just something I heard.”

            “I heard he’s done it with members of his own team--”

            “That’s ridiculous! He’s not into that, right?”

            “I dunno. It doesn’t really ruin your chances if it’s true.”

            “True.”

            “I heard he’s actually a supermodel.”

            “I heard his right eye is actually missing.”

            “I heard that he’s fucked a lot of girls, but never dated a single one of them.”

            “That’s about the only true statement I’ve heard all day.”

            “I heard that he’s secretly in love with someone.”

            “I heard that he defeated an entire clan of ninjas.”

            “I heard that once, he made a girl orgasm eight times in a row.”

            “I heard that once, he lit his dick on fire using rubbing alcohol and water.”

            “I heard that once, he fought off an entire gang _and_ a group of yakuza members while jacking off simultaneously.”

            “I heard that he wants to become a hairdresser.”

            “God damn it, you’re so fucking stupid!”

 

            No school _really_ has a kid who’s the most popular. High school movies suck at portraying actual high school. But one student seemed to be the exception to this rule at Toue. Among the large mass of students, everyone knew this one boy--and everyone either loved him or hated him. And Aoba had the misfortune of being very close friends with him.

            “Yo, Aoba!” Aoba counted off his fingers. This was the fifth time this week Koujaku had noticed him when he’d desperately wanted him not to. Obviously, he had nothing against him--they were best friends--but there’s something one needs to understand about the guy, before hearing the “dick-on-fire” rumors.

            With Koujaku came mobs of squealing, jealous girls.

            And his loyal Rib team.

            And swarms of boys pissed off that their average looks and shitty personalities stood no chance when faced with glowing, beautiful Koujaku.

            At least the pissing transfer student wasn’t here.

            _The fuck do you want,_ he wanted to say. But he had to speak cautiously, because the last time he’d mentioned an inside joke, it rubbed the girls the wrong way, and a “get Aoba away from Koujaku-san” movement swept the school. He didn’t know how to explain to the currently-smiling, overconfident high schooler that he should stop talking to him at school, and save it for his house. Maybe the conversation would go over better when he was mooching off his grandmother’s food.

            “Hey, Koujack.” Immediately, about twenty girls glared at him furiously. He frowned, looking away from their jealous gazes. They must sincerely believe the fucked-a-member-of-Beni-Shigure rumors, because neither boys nor girls were safe from their piercing, judging eyes. Koujaku laughed, as if all of this were nothing--and it was to him. It happened every day, making the fact that he was so oblivious to how annoying this was so much more unbearable.

            “I’ll walk you to class.” With a single step he parted the crowd, like the red sea. _I heard Koujaku is actually Jesus reincarnate,_ Aoba thought bitterly. The sad thing was, that would probably be a legitimate rumor in about a week. But he reached his side with ease, and they began to walk together, leaving a mob of students behind.

            “Are you trying to hold my hand?” A scarred, armwarmer-clad hand reached out to his. Aoba looked at it, embarassment flooding him. “I’m not a little kid trying to cross the street!”

            “You might get lost,” Koujaku replied, smoothly. A thin layer of blush lined Aoba’s cheeks. “This school is pretty big.”

            “Is that one of your seduction techniques?” Aoba raised an eyebrow. Immediately, Koujaku stared at the ground, alarmed. His face burned bright red as he shook his head furiously.

            “No! No . . . don’t get the wrong idea! We’ve--we’ve been childhood friends for so long--I can’t believe you got _that_ idea!” His laughter was awkward and forced. “Where are we going?”

            “Chemistry.” God, even the change of subject couldn’t break the awkward tension! “Where do you have to go?”

            “History.”

            “That’s in the complete opposite direction!” Koujaku shrugged, his lonely hand dangling by his side.

            “I don’t care. What kind of friend would I be, if I didn’t walk you to class?”

            “A good one,” Aoba muttered. In Koujaku’s defense, he did like him. It’s just that he was like a nagging mother who had some sort of cult following. Fortunately, his friend didn’t hear his comment. “Hey, if you’re late, you’ll get detention.”

            “Don’t worry about me. I’d rather know that you’ve gotten to your class without any trouble.” _You’re the one causing me the fucking trouble!_

“I’m just walking from Business to Chemistry! I don’t need you protecting my safety as your girlfriends plot how to devour my soul!” Koujaku stood silent, the look on his face almost hurt. A pang of guilt jabbed Aoba in the side. Damn it. This is why he couldn’t solve any of his problems. Because Koujaku would get all sad, and that was problematic for two obvious reasons.

            “Fine, you can walk me to class. Just don’t do anything stupid, like get yourself detention for being late.” Koujaku smiled, excitedly picking up the walking pace again. Aoba rolled his eyes, but after a while, he just accepted his fate and appreciated the company. Of course, this is what he always did.

            This was the fifth time this had happened this week.

 

***Passively-Aggressively Sings “I Am Not a Robot” by Marina and the Diamonds***

 

            Chemistry, contrary to popular belief, involved only a minimal amount of experimentation. All of the chemicals, cutting-edge lab equipment, and experimental rights were reserved for the students of the glass dome, popularly referred to as the Platinum Dome. Consequently, a vast majority of students received lectures that made little to no sense, and immediately afterwards, they were expected to complete worksheets using the concepts they didn’t learn. Aoba was close to ripping his paper to shreds and throwing it at the teacher’s face. _Find the net production of the following reaction. We’ll give you no relevant numbers whatsoever. Good luck, ya little shit._ He groaned as he began anew for the seventh time. Fifteen minutes had passed, and he was still on the first problem.

            The teacher weaved through lab tables, offering “help” to her students. Mostly, she stared at their blank worksheets and sneered at them, referring to them as lazy slackers. Aoba threw himself back in his seat. She would arrive at his table any second now. Maybe if he scribbled a bit, it’d look like he did something . . .

            “Aoba,” she sighed, her tall figure looming over him. “Why haven’t you done any work?”  

            “It doesn’t make any sense,” he stated, blood beginning to boil. “I can’t use these numbers to solve the problem--”

            “Were you paying attention?”

            “Yes, I was paying attention! We didn’t learn this!”

            “I taught it to you simply and clearly. A third-grader could understand!” And here she was, acknowledging the condescending nature of her lessons. Aoba narrowed his eyes, frowning. Defiance never worked with teachers, especially not this one. He sighed, knowing that every word he spoke would only make this woman hate him even more.

            “I’m sorry, but I need help on this. Can you _please_ help me?”

            “How much do you know?”

            “My mind is completely blank.”

            “If you’re mind is blank, I can’t fucking help you. You and your blue mullet of failure should go suck a dick or something, because you’re clearly not good for anything else.” She sneered at him, angering him further. “I thought I made that--” A loud crash interrupted her sentence. The scent of plaster filled the air and formed a white cloud of dust. Aoba coughed, waving it away as he squinted, unsure of where to look. Other students coughed and gaped, staring from a black rectangular hole in the ceiling to the floor, where a human figure lay on top of their hated teacher. Several students exchanged smiles and fist bumps as they watched her struggle for breath, helpless on the ground. As the figure stood up, it seemed that her back had broken--but nobody was watching her anymore. Standing right in front of Aoba was so absurd that he nearly choked. He wasn’t sure who he was--a gas mask obscured his entire face, but thick, wild white hair stuck out from the sides and back of his head. He donned a labcoat and a green scarf, and for no particular reason, carried an umbrella. Most of the class gawked at him--had he not crushed their chemistry teacher, some would have laughed--the man himself seemed oblivious to the scene he’d created. Aoba sat up straight, staring at the eyeholes of the mask. This was it. It had to be.

            This was the white-haired anime boy.

            _So he’s either gay or will die throughout the course of the story,_ Aoba thought to himself. _Well, he fell on top of that evil bitch, so it’ll be worth knowing him._ Without any concern and any acknowledgment of the other students, the gas mask guy leaned forward on Aoba’s desk, alarming him.

            “Master!” He tensed up, his face heating as other students focused their attention on him. _We’re not in some kind of BDSM relationship, I swear! I don’t even know him!_

“I--I think you’re mistaken--”

            “I would never mistake you, Master! I heard your voice, so I came!” Aoba wanted to smack his head on the table. Or disappear. Either would work.

            “Who _are_ you and _why did you fall from the fucking ceiling and hospitalize our teacher?”_ He couldn’t tell if he looked hurt because of his mask, but as a caution, Aoba added, “Not that we’re not grateful for your services--”

            “I’m Clear!” Nothing in his tone suggested that he was going to explain anything else. Aoba sighed, already one-hundred percent done with the day.

            “Are you _kidding_ me? Are you _fucking kidding_ me!? Who planned this? WHO WILL TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR ACTIONS?” The teacher regained her ability to speak. How unfortunate, Aoba thought. She couldn’t move, but she could point an accusatory finger at Aoba.

            “YOU! YOU PLANNED THIS, DIDN’T YOU?”

            “NO! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! I DON’T EVEN KNOW--”           

            “DETENTION, AOBA SERAGAKI! AND DETENTION TO YOUR FRIEND, TOO!”

            “I DON’T KNOW HIM!” Aoba threw his chair to the side in a fit of rage. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

            “YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!” she groaned, the pain searing through her back. “And somebody _please,_ call the paramedic.”

            “You should’ve gotten life alert, Sensei.”

            “Fuck you.”

 

**That Hardcore Guy Who’s Probably Seen Some Shit Wears a Pink Headband**

 

Detention. His grandmother was going to murder him dramatically. Heh. Get it, Aoba thought. Murder him dramatically? That would be one _dramatical murder_ . . . I should probably stop breaking the fourth wall, he thought. Jokes aside, the situation was severe. He was a good student, despite Chemistry and Business, where he usually fell asleep. He hadn’t done anything majorly stupid since middle school. Well, he’d just have to face it. His granny was probably going to chew him out for something else, because she always did. She’d simply wait for her to finish yelling, and then he’d explain that it wasn’t his fault, some creepy guy who was probably messing with him fell on top of his chemistry teacher and he took the blame . . . oh. Shit, that sounded ridiculous. Whatever. Yaoi grandma was going to have to deal with it.

            These thoughts drifted in and out of his mind throughout his next few classes. For the first time in his high school career, he’d gotten detention. Granted, he was a little shit in middle school, so he couldn’t say the experience was entirely new. But somehow, that made it worst. He’d thought he’d left those days behind him--hell, he could barely even _remember_ those days. All he knew was that he was stupid, he had no respect for authority, and his grandmother probably yelled at him. Ugh, it all lead back to her. He was really dreading the end of the day, when he’d have to sit in silence for an hour, for a teacher he despised, and then come home to hearing about how much of a disappointment he was.

            _I’m a disappointment when I forget to lock the door after I leave,_ Aoba reassured himself, yet again. He was caught in a cycle of reassuring himself that his situation was not that bad and freaking out about it all over again. _The lecture will only last five minutes!_

When the bell finally rang for lunch, Aoba still remained unfocused. He walked along with the crowd, not sure of exactly where he was going--he hoped he was heading to his usual lunch meetup spot by the back staircase--

            Suddenly, he felt him crash into something hard. Not a wall or an erect penis, but the rock-hard abs of someone so tall, so mean-looking, so scary that _there was no way that was a high schooler holy shit._ Timidly, Aoba tried to back away, but the man stared him down, blue eyes piercing straight into his chest. Soon, he was leaning against the wall, and this man was still staring. Without breaking his stare, the man reached into his jacket, pulled out a juice box, stabbed the straw into the hole menacingly, drank that shit like a thirsty hoe, and proceeded to CRUSH THE BOX WITH A SINGLE HAND AND THROW IT AT AOBA’S FACE LIKE A MAN.

“I--I’m sorry! I’m gonna leave--” A big, meaty claw stopped him. The man came closer, the scent of cinnamon oddly radiating off of him. Who the fuck was this man? He looked like he just got out of prison, but he smelled like a candle and stored juice boxes in his jacket? Was this day even real? “Am I fucking high right now? I didn’t take anything--”

“Why are you in my hallway?” He had the deepest voice he’d ever heard, even deeper than Koujaku’s. But his breath smelled like apple juice mixed with the odd cinnamon scent. Mmm. Almost like an apple pie. A terrifying, creepy apple pie. Who continued to stare at him coldly, expecting an answer.

“It’s not like I wanted to run into you! I wasn’t paying attention! I’ll leave, geez!” The man’s grip didn’t get any looser. _I have friends, you dessert! They’re probably wondering where I am!_

“ . . . Hm.” That noise was not reassuring. For a solid minute, they stood in silence. Aoba observed him more, noting that he chose a flashy pink cockatoo as an Allmate and that his headband was pink. Yet he defied the gender stereotypes associated with the color through the fact that his gaze was chilling and he’s probably killed people.

            “ . . . Don’t fucking come here again.” He released his hand, leaving Aoba to shake his wrist a couple of times. This guy must have a huge dick, he thought, recovering from his encounter. Calmly, the man took out another juice box from his coat--this time grape flavored--and tossed it to Aoba’s feet. Apprehensively, he stared at it, wondering if he should pick it up.

            “Don’t just stare, dumbass. Pick it up.” Aoba did as he was told. Damn, his voice made him feel submissive. Occasionally people would insist the same of his own voice, though it was harder to see when faced with _this._ “Leave.”

            Aoba was more than happy to follow that order.

 

            **The Breakfast Club, But Not Really**

 

            Aoba had been delighted to learn that his chemistry teacher could not monitor his detention, as she had broken her back and now resided in the hospital.

            He had not been delighted to learn that in her place, Vice Principal Akushima would monitor him and Clear, the gas-mask savior who had broken the back of the world’s most evil woman.

            “Seriously?” He sighed, locating the classroom he had been instructed (indirectly) to go to. Heart pounding and hand shaking, he opened the door slowly and walked cautiously inside. What he found shocked him, to say the least.

            First of all, the terrifying apple-cinnamon man from earlier was there, crossing his legs and sitting in his chair like a crime boss or something. About five crushed up juice boxes sat on his desk, but this time, he could detect the smell of vodka. Clear was there, cheerily half-singing as he scribbled on a piece of paper like he was five years old. His face was still concealed, but he looked unfazed by his punishment at all.

But another face surprised him even more.

"Aoba?" It wasn't hard go unnoticed when you regularly wore an open chest kimono and carried a large sword on your back.

" _Koujaku?_ "

"Why are you here?" He was making his concerned dad face again. Aoba narrowed his eyes as he replied.

"My chemistry teacher hates me, and gas mask guy broke her back, so I'm serving for Akushima." He continued to share at Koujaku with disapproval, though he didn't look like he got the hint. "Why are _you_ here?" Koujaku started stroking his ponytail, uncomfortable laughter filling the air. "Did you get caught fucking someone on the drama room sofa?"

"No! No, you know I wouldn't do that at _school_ . . ." The truth dawned on him, and he was less than amused.

"You were late to history."

"Um . . . yeah. I was." With his fist, Aoba lightly smacked him on the cheek.

"You stupid, overprotective hippo."

"Nothing wrong with being worried about your well-being--"

"SHUT UP AND SIT THE FUCK DOWN, YOU LITTLE SHIIITTTTTTTTS!"            The terrifying sound of unshaven, corrupted school officials filled the classroom. Even in such a confined space, speaking to four people, he used his megaphone. Started, Aoba and Koujaku promptly shut up and sat the fuck down. Akushima made his way to the front of the room and proceeded to glare at the students with disgust. “You are all here because you have no future! Do you want to die as delinquents, fuckheads?” He seized a spare meter stick and pointed in menacingly at the juice box guy. He didn’t flinch at all. Instead, he stared coldly ahead, though neither managed to faze the other. “Do you want to _die_ a piece of useless shit, Mink?” Mink didn’t respond. Akushima banged his fist on the table, fury in his eyes. “DO YOU WANT TO DIE AS THE ABSOLUTE FILTH YOU ARE, YOU STINKING CRAP?”

Mink didn’t respond.

“Is that vodka?”

Mink didn’t respond.

“IS THAT GODFORSAKEN FRUIT JUICE VODKA IN DISGUISE?”

Mink sipped a juice box.

“Give me that--” Disturbingly, he opened Mink’s jacket and seized a box of juice, surprisingly before the _is-that-even-a-high-schooler_ could crush his skull. Well, perhaps he could’ve, but there were a lot of legal issues involved with murdering the vice principal, and perhaps he didn’t want to go there. So Akushima now held a strawberry juice box, with a personified strawberry smiling kawaiily at him. “Is this fucking alcohol?”

            Mink didn’t respond. Akushima sniffed it twice and took a cautious sip.

            Then grabbed Mink by the shoulders.

            “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYING AT?” He sipped it again, mouth twisted in bitter resentment. “THIS IS JUST ORDINARY JUICE! YOU THUG-ASS PUNK! YOU LITTLE SHIT, PREPARE TO DIIIIIIEEEE!”

            Mink shrugged Akushima’s hand away. Furious, he slammed the offensive juice onto his desk, picked up his megaphone, and began to address the entire room:

“LISTEN UP, DELINQUENT SCUM! YOUR SORRY ASSES ARE GONNA SIT HERE FOR AN HOUR, AND YOU ARE GOING TO LEARN THE ERROR OF YOUR SHITTY WAYS!” He glared at everyone individually, and then collectively. “And if any of you, for even a fucking second, think of pulling anything, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS SO HARD EVEN THE THOUGHT OF SITTING WILL BRING YOU TO TEARS--” A sudden darkness cut him off. It filled the room, without warning and seemingly without cause. With a painful screech, Akushima slammed his megaphone on the desk and punched the wall. “WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKHEADS IS GONNA GET HIS ASS KICKED FIIRRRSST?” Aoba knew it was best not to respond, but the room didn’t remain silent.

“We didn’t move from our seats, sir!” Clear’s innocent-sounding voice rang out from one corner.

“THAT’S BULLSHIIIITTTTT!”

“We couldn’t have turned off the lights! Even the lights in the hallway are all off!” To his annoyance, the lights outside were indeed off. Defeated, Akushima headed towards the door, swinging it open.

“If any of you fucking shitnipples leave your very spots--even if you step a toe out of place--I WILL DESTROY YOU, YOUR ANUS, AND YOUR CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM!” With that, he stormed out, actually believing that the four might behave themselves.

“How much time left, Aoba?”

“About 50 minutes.” Koujaku leaned back in his chair, frustrated. Akushima could come back at any moment, so talking was risky. _Fifty minutes to think about what to say when Granny yells at me._ Aoba figured he’d fall asleep.

Two minutes later, the lights came back on in the classroom. The hallway remained dark, which struck Aoba as strange. It was almost like someone had planned this power outage . . .

Who else was currently in the school, who would do that?

            Five minutes later, another bang interrupted Aoba’s thoughts. For the second time that day, the room had an unwanted visitor.

            “What the fuck,” a low voice said, squeezing himself out of the air ducts. He took off his bunny-adorned hat, ruffled his chestnut hair, and put it back on again. “This isn’t the exit.”

            “You!” Aoba pointed, jumping up from his seat. “What are you doing--”

            “Shut up; he’ll hear you,” Koujaku warned, though it was more directed towards the newcomer than Aoba, who was the one raising his voice. He glanced to the side, in Koujaku’s direction.

            “He should be on the second floor now. He’ll go to the electric room, find nothing, and then find a bunch of lights turning on in succession. Enough to buy us about an hour of time.”

            “What about the business teacher?” Aoba interrupted. “You were serving detention for her, right?”

            “Yeah.” He was clearly trying to seem cold and distant--or was he? Maybe he was just cold and distant. Whatever the case, Aoba didn’t take it too personally. “What of it?”

            “What did you do to her?”

            “Turned off the lights. She freaked out and left. Now I’m leaving--” He found his path blocked by Koujaku’s sheathed sword. Angrily, he gave him a stare that said “the fuck you think you’re doing?”, but he refused to budge.

            “Take us with you.”

            “Koujaku, he doesn’t even know where he’s going.” Noiz muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “that’s why I’m stuck here with you assholes”, but you know, one can never really tell what people mutter under their breaths. At this point, Clear jumped out of his seat and half-walked, half-skipped happily towards the source of conflict.

            “I know where to go!” He pointed towards the air ducts, which Noiz had used to enter the room.

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yeeess! I’ll draw you a map!” He pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of his labcoat (why is everyone pulling shit out of their coats, Aoba wondered). “Scribble, scribble, scribble,” he sang like a five-year-old, while everyone except Mink leaned over him. “See? This is where we are--” He pointed to a square on the page, which branched out into a series of semi-crudely drawn lines that indicated the school’s A/C system. “And this is where we need to go!” One lead directly to the back of the school.  

            “Can you just get us out of here?” Clear nodded quickly, and kneeled down, approaching the air duct.

            “Yes! Follow me!” Ass after ass, they followed Clear into the air duct system. Aoba smiled, cramming his uke body into the dark vents. If he got home earlier, maybe his granny would bust his balls less.

 

            “Stop pushing.”

            “I’m not pushing!”

            “Fatass.”

            “What? No, it’s your fault for going too slow!”

            “Maybe you should’ve gone ahead of me, then.”

            “Don’t talk in the air vents! I can think of ten reasons why that is a shitty idea!” Aoba interrupted, frustrated. He could feel the sweat and warmth of other bodies surrounding him. He was sandwiched between Koujaku and Mink, putting him dangerously close to his best friend’s ass and his own butt uncomfortably close to Mink’s face, which meant that if he accidentally kicked Mink in the face, he’d probably get beaten to death. But if he were to accidentally fall on top of Koujaku, it would be AWKWARD for EVERYONE. So he bit his lip and continued crawling forward, suppressing both a cough and a sudden headache.

“We don’t fit in here.”

“No fucking shit.” Koujaku and Noiz didn’t stop arguing, did they . . .

“Do this outside! Settle this in some sort of fight! I don’t care!”

“Do you Rhyme, bitch?”

“No, but I have a team of loyal, useful members of society willing to kick your ass a hundred times over!”

“Rib is stupid.”

“The _fuck_ did you just say about Beni-Shigure?”

“It’s like MySpace. Nobody does it anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Mink’s deep voice startled Aoba and he nearly fell on Koujaku’s ass. _Great fucking going, Mink Wazowski._ “My team has delayed hundreds of classes. You’re all in debt to me.”

“Can we _not_ with the talking?”

“Well that makes sense, because you look like a hot dad instead of a high schooler.”

“What did you just fucking call me?”

“Turn left! Turn left!” They squeezed through, changing directions. Which involved much groping, shouting, and awkward, vaguely sexual positions. Aoba swore he felt Mink’s dick brush against his leg. It gave him the shivers as he climbed over Koujaku.

“Do you even go here?”

“Unfortunately.” He kept it at that, roughly shoving Aoba ahead. Rude.

“It’s just a couple of meters from here--”

“GO FASTER, WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”

“I CAN FEEL THE LIGHT!”

“TAKE ME THERE, WHITE-HAIRED ANIME BOY!”

“Or was I supposed to make a left--”

“GOD SHITTING DAMN IT!”

 

When they did get out, Aoba coughed for a solid two minutes, his headache worsening as he squinted, staring into bright sunlight. Only Clear seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal. But at this point, they’d accepted that Clear was hella strange. Koujaku stretched his back and cracked it violently as Noiz readjusted his hat, muttering about losers who still do Rib and hot dads. Aoba didn’t know where Mink went. He probably left immediately.

In all honesty, he was more than happy the school day was over. The feeling of dread in his chest never diminished, but at least it’d blow over quickly.

“I’m going home.” He didn’t know if he was talking to Koujaku only, or all three of them. Perhaps he spoke to nobody in particular. But it was strange. The people before him, and Mink . . . what was his relationship to them now? Most likely, they’d part as acquaintances, never seeing each other again. Did he want it to stay that way? Well, it was only one afternoon. It didn’t matter to him, he thought as he turned away.

Still, it was hard to believe that crawling over each other in the school air ducts, breaking the loosely-enforced rules and bickering somewhat merrily _wouldn’t_ bring a group of people together.

 

 

**  
**

****

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sure what the hell this story is. My friend and I were thinking of hypothetical high school headcanons, and here we have it - another high school au. Friendly reminder that nearly all of this is bullshit. 
> 
> \- I do not know where Mink's juice box thing came from. My initial reasoning was that cigars would not be allowed, but Mink wouldn't give a shit.  
> \- My friend and I have a headcanon that Noiz's real name is actually incredibly lame, but he somehow convinces people that his real name is indeed Noiz.  
> \- If, by chance, anything is significantly offensive, please call me out on it. I strongly believe there are ways to be funny without making offensive jokes, and I believe I avoid that type of humor well.  
> \- Please be a decent human being and avoid negative commentary on this, if you don't like it. I'm just having fun writing this story for my friend. I just thought others might enjoy it as well. I'm also not looking for constructive criticism. It's not supposed to make much sense/be particularly well-written.  
> \- Also, for some reason Ao3 kept messing with the format. So the indenting on some paragraphs is off. I apologize for the inconvenience.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ^0^


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